Dolor and Shadow (55 page)

“Be silent,” the Dvergr said. “She doesn’t have much time.”

The familiar voice forced Rune still and, all at once, he recognized the wide, black eyes of Ori.

* * *

The cold water engulfed Kallan’s body, stabbing at her like a thousand knives. Gagged by the rags Olaf’s men had stuffed into her mouth, she failed to gasp against the cold of the lake. The weighted shackles cut into her wrists as she wriggled and fought to break her bonds. Kallan’s consciousness waned the deeper she sank to the lake’s bottom. She forced her eyes open despite the cold, and looked into the black nothing around her.

Battling back the panic clouding her mind, Kallan gave a final jerk at her arms secured behind her back. Her body shuddered and the last of her breath left her to the black fathoms of Lake Mjerso.

CHAPTER 64

Golden light wafted beneath the waters in slender strips of ribbon. It twisted itself behind Kallan, encircling her with the glittering gold of soft light.

She reached to touch it, but it bowed and arched away from her, teasing her, egging her to follow. The bands widened into tiny rivers that flowed in a steady stream down, deeper into the black chasms of nothingness. There, in the depths, nothing mattered. Nothing else existed there where the world she left behind ended, and this one began.

Kallan pushed herself down, closer to the light and it mirrored her, pushing down deeper, twisting upon itself until it doubled back and wrapped itself behind her. She thought back to the
Naejttie,
Sarahkka, and Kallan wondered if this too was a Seidr-spring lost and forgotten beneath the lake.

“Kallan.”

She ignored her name, eager to pursue her curiosity, and gave a hard kick, propelling herself closer to the light. It had branched itself out into thousands of strands, whipping and flowing, bending and forming as it moved with the water.

“Kallan!”

She forced her mind clear and tried to move closer, but the rivers of light were flowing too fast. She struggled to keep up.

“Kallan!”

With a deep gasp, Kallan opened her eyes and stared into the black night speckled with starlight and the lights of the Great Hunt. The lake wind rushed over her soaked body and she shook against the sudden cold. Her breath punched the air in a series of gasps. Her body convulsed against the chill.

“Stay with me!” Rune’s voice barely penetrated the thick wall of her consciousness. “Kallan?”

She looked about, disoriented at first, until her eyes found Rune leaning over her. Droplets of water fell from his face and his black hair was matted to his neck and brow. A wide smile broke across his face as her breathing settled and confusion cleared.

Throwing her arms around Rune’s neck, Kallan gasped with relief. Lake water glued her gown to her skin as each granule of sand beneath her dug into her legs. Ignoring the discomfort, she crushed Rune in a hug, taking solace in his warmth that permeated the chill and regulated her pulse.

He was as drenched as she was, but Kallan tightened her grip and buried her face in his neck as she waited for the disorientation to pass. Astrid snorted and pawed the ground beside Freyja and Kallan peered over Rune’s shoulder. The lake stretched out like black glass, reflecting the blue and purple ribbons of the Valkyrjur’s Lights overhead. The forest resumed where the beach ended and pine trees clawed the sky. A pair of clear, black eyes, framed in the mass of black hair stood vigilant alongside Astrid with reins in hand.

“Rune,” Kallan said, moving so as to not prematurely provoke the Dvergr. Flicking her wrist, Kallan poised her arm, and aimed as she moved to fire.

“Kallan, wait.” Rune threw himself into her, slamming them into the ground as she unleashed a stream. With a thud, they hit the beach, knocking the air from Kallan as Ori ducked. The tree behind him sizzled and the fire died.

“Get off,” she said as she opened her claws to Rune and he rolled with her.

“Kallan, be still,” he said.

“What are you doing? That’s a Dvergr!” Kallan pointed a finger at Ori. “He’s one of them!”

“He helped me find you!” Rune said.

“I know what he is,” Kallan said.

“You’re alive because of him.”

Kallan studied Rune’s face for lies.

“He’s been following us since Jotunheim,” Rune said. “He saw where they took you and led me from Olaf’s camp. It’s because of him I was able swim out to you before you were even in the water.”

“Rune, they’re coming,” Ori urged.

“We don’t have the time,” Rune said. “The Dvergar are here.”

“If they’re here, it’s because he has led them here,” Kallan said.

“Listen! Foolish! Woman!” Rune punched each word with a tone that forced her to hold her tongue. “They are here because Motsognir brings his army. He has not stopped. He is here.”

“Three thousand ride from Svartálfaheim,” Ori interjected, walking closer with Kallan’s dagger suspended from his hand. The color drained from Kallan’s face as she lay, not moving, waiting. “Rune, we have to go.”

Rune shuffled to his feet and extended a hand to Kallan, who slapped it away then pushed herself from the ground. After brushing off the clumps of sand that had caked onto her clothes and hair, Kallan took up her skirts and wrung out the excess water.

With a huff, Kallan released her gown and sneered at the Dvergr whose unreadable ebony eyes met hers. Without a word, Ori made his way back to the horses. With a blank look, Rune joined the Dvergr, leaving Kallan to bring up the rear with a huff.

As Rune gathered Freyja’s reins,
Gramm
’s silver filigree hilt and red pommel caught Kallan’s eye. In an instant, she moved. Unsheathing the sword from Rune’s side, Kallan swept the blade toward Ori, stopping the tip at his throat.

“Do not turn your back, Dvergr,” Kallan said, daring him to move. “The scars inflicted upon me are too bold a reminder of what your kinsmen did to me. Some wounds run too deep,” she warned.

With a nod, Ori held her gaze. “I understand,” he replied.

Slowly, Kallan lowered the blade, grimacing as she moved to take Astrid’s reins.

“Hold it.”

Kallan turned her attention to Rune, who snatched Kallan’s dagger from Ori. Without a word, he took two steps toward Kallan and yanked back his sword, sheathed
Gramm
, and handed
Blod Tonn
to the Dokkalfr. As Rune shuffled through the saddlebag, Kallan tightened her grip around the black hilt.

Almost immediately, Rune withdrew Kallan’s pouch and handed it to her. As she busied herself with the strap, Rune pulled Ori’s black leather overcoat lined with rabbit fur from the saddle and dropped hard onto her shoulders.

Kallan buckled beneath the weight. As he lifted himself into the saddle, Kallan tossed a final scowl at Ori, who seemed indifferent to her disapproval. After slipping her hand into Rune’s, he hoisted her up in front of him. Taking up the reins, they started into a light canter that carried them along the lake’s shores with Ori and Freyja following right behind them.

* * *

With every softened footfall, Kallan frowned at the Dvergr walking alongside their mount, until the frequent shift of her eyes became one constant grimace permanently fixed over Rune’s arm.

Ori ignored her venom and took care to avoid her eye. Indifference glazed his expression, angering her more. Despite Rune’s continuous efforts to block Ori from Kallan’s view, she made several adjustments in the saddle to regain a clear path in which to peer down from her seat upon Astrid.

After an hour, Rune pulled back on the reins.

“Ori,” Rune said, sliding from the saddle with a nod. Ori returned Rune’s nod and walked back down the path alongside the lake.

Taking Kallan by the waist, Rune pulled Kallan to the ground, ensuring his grip stayed in place. Kallan shifted, but Rune’s hands tightened, adding a jerk that maintained her position. He waited, keeping her in place, until the last of Ori’s foot falls vanished.

“What the Hel are you doing?” Rune asked as soon as they were alone.

“What am I doing?” Kallan asked, attempting to shove his hands from her waist. They did not budge. “You’re the one picking up friends among enemies wherever you can find them. What’s wrong with you?”

“We need him,” Rune said. A twinge of his regal demeanor burned in his eyes, and a flicker of respect pinched Kallan’s nerves.

“There is nothing I will ever need from a Dvergr,” Kallan said, digging at his fingers holding her waist.

“His king knows where we are,” he said. “They know we are heading to Alfheim. They know the path we take. It is not a question of if they find us. They will find us. They will catch up.”

Kallan glanced at the lake, knowing he was right.

“What then?” he asked when she didn’t answer. “What plan do you have to hold off a army of three thousand?”

“Regardless of what I can do to evade them, travelling with one of them can be of no help,” Kallan said, looking back to Rune.

Rune’s grip tightened on her waist.

“He hopes to head off the scouts and redirect the troops. If he can convince them we took a different path, it may buy us the time we need to enter Alfheim.”

“And why should they stop at Alfheim?” she asked.

“Motsognir is convinced you have kin looking for you at the borders of Alfheim. If they see him, if they suspect your abduction was linked to the Dvergar, Motsognir fears the Dokkalfar will launch an army against Svartálfaheim.”

With a creased brow and anger ebbed, Kallan studied Rune’s face. “Why would he think I have kin waiting at the border?”

Ignoring her question, Rune continued.

“I am certain, if we can get to the border before Motsognir catches up—”

“We’ll be free of their huntsman,” Kallan finished for him, suddenly aware of how close he had pulled her in.

“Yes,” he said, releasing his grip from her waist.

Kallan stared out to the lake. Lost in the darkness and her thoughts, she rolled through her options. Her clothes were damp from the lake, leaving her chilled to the bone. With a shiver, she pulled Ori’s overcoat tighter around her shoulders.

“Very well,” she said, “but I will not drop my guard. I will not sleep in the presence of that…that…” She pointed to the general direction taken by Ori. “That!”

Kallan turned on her heel and marched back to Astrid, leaving Rune with his sighs of exasperation.

CHAPTER 65

Kallan lay awake, listening to the lake water lap the land as it flowed with the wind. Rune’s breath had already settled into the slow, steady rhythms of sleep. As Kallan flopped and shuffled into numerous positions to induce sleep, the scent of fish still clung to the air. She glanced to Rune across the fire. The Dvergr had not returned and she found herself wishing he would.

From the shadows, she feared his betrayal and waited, prepared for the moment when he would suspect them asleep, but no attack came. Instead, Kallan watched and waited with guard raised as the night passed by.

Wide-awake and irate, Kallan kicked off the hide and sprung to her feet. Creeping around the fire, she snatched up
Gramm
from Rune’s bags and fastened the sword to her waist. As she plodded off on the balls of her feet, running into the thick of the forest, she failed to see the slit of Rune’s eye watching from the fire’s side.